Forgiveness
by the-defenestration-of-smaug
Summary: When Arthur discovers Merlin's magic, Merlin is forced to flee Camelot. But his exile may not be as permanent as he expects. When Camelot is threatened, can Arthur and Merlin put aside their differences long enough to save the home they both love?
1. Chapter 1

Camelot's main square was eerily silent, the crowd holding its breath beneath the iron gray sky. Thunder rumbled on the distant horizon, and the sorcerer was brought out in chains. The sorcerer. That's what he was now. He wasn't Merlin anymore, because how could the king sentence Merlin to death? How could he order his best friend to be burned alive? It was impossible. But a sorcerer- a sorcerer deserved to die. Arthur could send a sorcerer to his death with a clear conscience. Couldn't he?

Merlin was brought up to the platform and tied to the stake where he would burn. The air was cold, and he wasn't wearing a coat or shoes. But he didn't shiver. He didn't look particularly concerned about his impending doom. He stood calmly, waiting.

"Any last words, sorcerer?" One of the guards asked. Most prisoners turned him down. It was a mere formality, a holdover from the days when the right words might set you free.

"Yes, actually. I do have a few things to get off my chest," Merlin replied, smiling pleasantly at the guard. He knew the young man, had spoken to him a few occasions and snuck past him on a few more.

"Go on, then," the guard said, a little taken aback.

"Gaius," Merlin started, eyes picking out his uncle among the crowd. "You're more a father to me than anyone else, and I want to thank you for everything you've done for me." The old man smiled shakily and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyan, you are some of the best and bravest men I have ever had the good fortune to meet." He smiled at the knights, knowing that he was the cause of much conflict among them, tearing their loyalties between their king and their friend. Their failed attempt at a prison break the night before had proved to him which side they fell on. He also knew that his next words would make it even worse, but found himself unable to care. "Your king doesn't deserve you."

He shifted his gaze to another of his friends. "Morgana, I always wanted to spend more time with you and one of my biggest regrets is that I let a little thing like protocol get the way of that. It's too late now, of course, but I thought I may as well say it." She smiled even though he could see the tears in her eyes, held back by sheer force of will. "Gwen," Merlin continued, addressing the queen, standing beside her husband. He knew that she had fought Arthur over this decision every step of the way, pouring over dusty old law books in the library for days without interruption, searching for some loophole that would allow her to overrule her husband in the decision. It had all come to nothing. "You are a kind and lovely person, and I'm glad to have known you. I know what you tried to do for me, and I appreciate it. I wish you all the best." Gwen nodded, tears running freely down her cheeks. Then, finally, Merlin turned his attention to the king.

"Arthur," he said, staring into the impassive face of the man who had been his best friend. "I have done nothing but serve you, loyally and faithfully, for five years. I did everything you ever asked of me and saved your life more times than I can count. I would have died for you, because I had faith that you were a good man and would be a great king. I had faith that one day, you would fulfill the prophecy and unite this land, bringing about a peace that would last. A peace in which everyone is accepted: those without magic, and those with it. I believed in that future. I believed in you. But I was wrong about all of it. You are not a good man, Arthur. You are not a good king, and you never will be. You betrayed me in every way possible, and for that, there can be no forgiveness." Merlin leaned back against the stake, breathing hard. Silence fell heavily over the crowd, until the guards realized that Merlin was finished. They looked up at Arthur, who nodded, and they picked up their torches and lit the pyre.

Merlin looked down at the growing flames below his feet with some vague interest. He could feel the heat through the boards he stood on, and decided that this had gone on long enough. He turned his face to the sky.

"O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes!" He shouted, watching in his peripheral vision as people began to panic, thinking that he was trying to curse them. He glanced toward Arthur, wondering what the king thought about this obvious display of magic. Arthur was giving orders to a group of guards with crossbows. Really, Arthur? Merlin thought. Burning me alive isn't fast enough for you? You have to have me shot, too? As the archers took position, Merlin muttered a spell that broke the ropes holding him to the stake. Just as the arrows took flight, he whipped his hand up in the air with his palm facing the missiles, stopping them dead in the air with a flash of gold in his eyes.

The flames had grown taller by now, licking at the platform Merlin stood on. He didn't know a spell to put out fires. He only knew how to start them, for all the good that did him now. Eyes and throat burning from the smoke, he scanned the sky again, wishing the dragon would hurry. Just as the thought crossed his mind, someone screamed. Soon, people all throughout the square were pointing up at the sky, shouting out in terror.

Kilgharrah swooped low, scattering the people who had come to watch the execution. He circled once, then landed on the cobblestones beside the fire. Merlin didn't hesitate. He leaped off the platform and grabbed hold of the dragon's neck, pulling himself up so he was sitting astride the dragon's enormous scaly neck. Just before Kilgharrah took off, Merlin made eye contact with Arthur. It was a frozen moment, when time stopped and everything else disappeared. When Merlin spoke, he did not raise his voice over the chaos around them, but Arthur heard every word.

" _Áwierge ðú, æswican_ ," Merlin said, and then the dragon took flight, carrying Merlin away.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sat alone in his room, staring into the fire, listening to the rain beat on the window. Gwen had moved into her own room. He hoped it was just for the night, but knew it would more likely be indefinitely. He felt numb. Some part of him was furious that Merlin had escaped. That was the part of him that had sent a group of soldiers to hunt down the sorcerer and spread word to the outlying towns that there was a dangerous fugitive on the loose. But another part of him, the same part that had felt every one of Merlin's words like a knife to the heart, was relieved. He hadn't watched his best friend die. And though he barely dared admit it to himself, he was thankful for that. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Arthur called. Gaius entered the room, none of the usual kindness in his eyes.

"You asked for me, my lord?" He said stiffly.

"Yes," Arthur said, straightening up in his chair. "I know that you once studied magic, Gaius, so you must know the ancient language."

"That is correct."

"So I was wondering, when Merlin… escaped, did you hear what he said? The last part, in the ancient language?"

"I did, my lord."

"What did he say?"

"I believe he said 'áwierge ðú, æswican.'"

"I know, I heard him," Arthur said, irritation slipping into his voice. "Could you translate that for me, please?" Gaius studied him for a long time, with something in his eyes that Arthur had never seen there before. When he finally spoke, Arthur flinched at the force of the words and the contempt they carried.

"It means 'curse you, traitor.'" Then he turned and left the room. The next morning, Gaius's rooms were found empty, the shelves stripped bare of the physician's possessions and the man himself gone without a trace.


	3. Chapter 3

Kilgharrah landed in a grassy clearing in the forest just as rain began to fall. Merlin slid gratefully down to the ground, legs aching from the effort of clinging to the dragon's back.

"There is a town a few miles to the east," Kilgharrah said, pointing his tail in that direction. "You should be able to make it there by morning."

"Thanks," Merlin said, shivering. He didn't see what good a town would do when he had no money and nothing to trade for food or shelter, but he didn't complain. The dragon had done enough for him already. The rest was up to him.

"There has been a great shift in this world, Merlin," Kilgharrah said thoughtfully. Merlin looked up at him in surprise, wondering if the dragon was going to actually tell him something useful for once. "The future has been irreparably altered. Things will never be the same again."

"And the prophecy? I suppose that's off the table now too, isn't it?" Merlin asked. But the dragon just shook his massive head.

"All I can say is that your destiny and Arthur's are still entwined, but I can no longer see how. For the first time since we met, young warlock, I can honestly say that your fate, and therefore the fate of this world, is entirely in your hands." With a sweep of enormous wings, the dragon took off, leaving Merlin to stand in the rain, completely and utterly alone.

He reached the town at dawn. The rain had finally stopped, but by then he was totally soaked, his pants and bare feet were caked with mud, and he was shivering from the cold. He knew he had to get out of Camelot, and to do that he needed money. He didn't want to steal, but knew that he had very little choice in the matter. As he walked down the street, he noticed a merchant supervising two young men packing his wares onto a wagon. The man was wearing expensive clothes and Merlin could see a heavy leather purse hanging from his belt. This was a man who could afford to lose a few coins. While the man was distracted, Merlin muttered a spell and the purse swung open. A flash of gold eyes, and a handful of coins drifted out of the open purse and into Merlin's waiting hand. He ducked around a corner and counted the money. It was enough for what he needed.

He found other merchants in the town square, where he bought food for the journey, a water skin, a bedroll, boots, and a cloak. The only color of cloak he could find was black, and Merlin smiled slightly as he put it on and pulled the hood up to protect him against the chill. Now he really did look like an evil sorcerer.

There was an inn in the town, with several of the guests' horses tied to a rail in the back. He looked them over. Most were skinny old farm horses who had spent their lives pulling a plow. There were two battle horses though, one bay and one black, with a familiar red insignia on the saddles. They belonged to soldiers from Camelot. Merlin shrugged. If he were going to steal from anyone, it may as well be Arthur. He quickly untied the black horse's reins and mounted, surreptitiously tearing the insignia off of the saddle and dropping it in the mud. Then he rode off down the road, trying to look as though he owned the horse he was riding.

Just as he left the town limits, he heard a shout behind him. He urged the horse into a gallop, leaving the town behind. He knew that the border between Camelot and the next kingdom was a few days' ride away. He just hoped that he could make it that far before anyone caught up with him.

Merlin crossed Camelot's border after two days of hard riding. He didn't look back. But no matter how far he ran, he was followed by ghosts: his family, he friends, the mistakes he'd made and everything he left behind. And no matter how hard he tried, he never could shake the feeling that there was somewhere else he needed to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur was miserable. Gwen spoke to him only when absolutely necessary, and he had long since abandoned the hope that one day they would share quarters again. Lancelot had disappeared the day after Merlin escaped. Gwaine began spending ever increasing amounts of time in the tavern, and Arthur knew that the only reason he stayed in Camelot at all was because he had nowhere else to go. The rest of the knights of the round table remained loyal to him, but things were never the same. They were no longer friends. They didn't talk and laugh like they used to. They did their duties and nothing more.

To make matters worse, the kingdom was on the brink of war. Mordred had gathered an alliance of several kingdoms together under one banner and was planning an attack on Camelot. And though he would never admit it, Arthur was scared. He knew that this army included sorcerers. He had faith in his men fighting against ordinary soldiers, but what could swords do against supernatural forces?

He had just received reports that Mordred was gathering men from all of his allied kingdoms, amassing an army on the plains to the south, when Gwen entered his private chambers for the first time in years. They had only seen each other in professional settings for some time, when the presence of both the king and the queen was necessary.

"Guinevere," Arthur said surprisedly, rising from his chair by the fire. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to discuss the issue of Mordred's army," she said crisply, sitting down across from him. He slowly resumed his seat. "I assume you got the news that they're gathering on the plains?"

"I have."

"You know there's only one thing they could be doing," she said. He nodded heavily.

"They're preparing to march on Camelot."

"Yes. What, may I ask, are you planning on doing when they arrive?"

"Well, they're sure to lay siege to the city, so we'll begin making all of the usual preparations now-"

"They won't lay siege to the city," Gwen interrupted abruptly.

"What? Of course they'll attack the city, what else could they do?" He asked confusedly.

"Oh, they'll certainly attack," she replied surely. He raised his hands helplessly, not understanding her point. Ignoring his gesture, she continued. "They will use their force of sorcerers trained for war. They won't lay siege to the city because with that kind of power, they will simply knock down the walls and stroll right in."

"Then what do you suggest?" Arthur asked angrily. "Are you saying that there's no hope? That we should just surrender? Because I won't let that happen, not while I'm alive-"

"Of course that's not what I'm suggesting," Gwen snapped. "Do you really think so little of me? What I'm saying is that we need to fight fire with fire." She paused, letting him work through her meaning.

"You want me," he said slowly, "to hire sorcerers to defend the city?"

"No," she replied contemptuously. "I know that your narrow minded world view would never allow you to do something as intelligent as that, and they would never fight for you in any case. What I want is for you to go find the one sorcerer who you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can trust."

"There is no such sorcerer," Arthur said quietly, knowing exactly to whom she was referring.

"Yes, there is," she said, steel in her eyes. "Merlin."


	5. Chapter 5

For some time, Merlin had been hearing disturbing news about Camelot, something about an army gathering and a force of sorcerers preparing to march on the city. And when he slept, he saw terrible things: dead men lying broken on the castle walls, blood running like water through the streets, the night stained red in the light of the city burning. And always, he heard the voice of the dragon. _Your fate, and therefore the fate of this world, is entirely in your hands._

Merlin ignored the dreams for as long as he could, tried to convince himself that they meant nothing. But eventually it became too much. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of the future. He knew that he had to go back to Camelot. Without him, terrible things would happen. Of that he was sure. So, against all logical arguments, he saddled his horse once again and rode for Camelot.

He was about twenty miles north of the border when he heard the telltale sounds of a fight in progress. Loosening his twin swords in the scabbards across his back, he spurred his horse to a trot, following the noise. When he got close, he turned off the road and approached more carefully, concealed by the trees while he assessed the situation.

He saw three men, well armed and riding battle horses, surrounded by a group of roughly dressed men with scrawny mounts and mismatched weapons, obviously bandits. The three men were holding their own, but Merlin could see that they would not last much longer to their enemy's superior numbers.

Merlin had a brief moment of indecision. This wasn't his battle. He could stay out of it, continue on his way. There were a few hours of daylight left. If he rode until then, he would reach Camelot by the end of the day tomorrow. And if he got involved, he would certainly be delayed. He was confident that he could defeat the bandits with magic, but afterwards there would be questions, and if he was unlucky, the men might even try to turn him in for being a sorcerer.

Merlin had turned his horse around and was on the point of riding away when he suddenly stopped. _What am I doing?_ He wondered, closing his eyes. _Is this who I am now?_ He turned around. He couldn't leave them here to die.

Without another moment's hesitation, he spurred his horse forward and out of the trees, drawing his swords. He threw two men from their saddles with magic before either saw him coming, and by the time the others noticed him it was too late. One swung wildly at him with a heavy broadsword. Merlin blocked him with his two swords crossed in front of him, then slipped one down under the man's defences and stabbed him in the shoulder. The bandit screamed and fell from his saddle, then staggered away into the trees, clutching his wound. Behind him, the three soldiers had taken the opportunity to go on the offensive, driving the remaining thieves back into the trees to join the ones Merlin had knocked out of their saddles. In the space of a few moments, the clearing was empty of bandits. Merlin watched for a moment to make sure they were all truly gone, then turned his horse to face the men he'd saved.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Merlin took in bright blond hair and a very familiar face, one he hadn't seen in years. He was flooded with a confusing tangle of conflicting emotions, anger prominent among them. Yet they were woven through with a thread of something else, something that Merlin dared not label joy, and he realized that some small part of him had missed Arthur far more than he would have liked to admit. Then the king of Camelot spoke.

"You saved our lives." For a moment, Merlin was surprised that this was what Arthur said to him after all those years. Then he realized that his face was hidden by the shadow of his cloak's hood and a few day's growth of a beard on his chin. Not to mention the circumstances: of course Arthur wouldn't expect to see his ex-manservant-turned-sorcerer here.

"Yes," Merlin said, sheathing his swords. "It's not the first time."

"What?" Arthur looked so confused that Merlin almost laughed out loud.

"You don't recognize me? Come on, it hasn't been that long," Merlin said. Arthur turned and exchanged confused looks with the man behind him. Merlin looked at him too, and received another jolt of recognition: it was Leon, and beside him was Gwaine.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," Arthur replied, still looked baffled.

"You really are a clotpole, aren't you?" Merlin said, and watched the perplexed expression on Arthur's face turn to one of realization.

" _Merlin?_ "

"I knew you'd get there eventually," Merlin said, and pulled down his hood. He heard a sharp intake of breath from all three of the knights. There was a long silence. It was Gwaine who finally broke it.

"It's good to see you again, mate," he said quietly. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Merlin replied. He smiled slightly, then turned his attention back to Arthur, whose shocked expression had hardened into something far colder.

"Since I just saved your life again, I'm hoping that you won't try to stop me from going on my way," Merlin said. "I'd like to avoid any trouble." The words were friendly enough, but he made sure they could hear the implied threat in his voice. The three knights exchanged glances.

"Actually, Merlin, it's you we were looking for," Leon said. Merlin let out a long breath.

"I'm honored that I'm an important enough criminal that the king himself is out looking for me," he said, trying to buy some time while his mind raced. Why would they be searching for me now, after all this time? The knights looked at Arthur, waiting for him to speak. But the king just shifted in his saddle, glaring at Merlin. Finally Leon spoke.

"What if you didn't have to be?" He said.

"Didn't have to be what?"

"A criminal," Leon clarified. Merlin took his time answering.

"Sorcery is a crime punishable by death," he said slowly. "I'm a sorcerer. I can't be anything but a criminal." Leon glanced at Arthur again, looking exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Why don't we make camp?" The knight suggested. "It will be dark soon. We can have something to eat and talk." But Merlin was already shaking his head.

"I make it a general rule to not make camp with people who want to kill me."

"We don't want to kill you, Merlin," Gwaine broke in. "We want to talk, that's all."

"Oh, so that's what the pyre was for? So we could talk?" Merlin said scathingly.

"I'm telling the truth," Gwaine insisted. "And besides, if we try to kill you, I'm pretty sure we'll be the ones who end up dead." Merlin inclined his head. It was probably true, but there were still three of them and only one of him. If they got him surrounded, caught him off guard…

"Just a few minutes," Gwaine said quietly, as if sensing Merlin's misgivings. "Please. Let us explain what we're doing here, and then if you still want to go, you can."

Merlin took a long breath and thought it over. _It was a mistake letting them see who you are,_ he told himself. _Stupid. Impulsive. You should have left as soon as you got rid of the bandits_. But he hadn't, and now they knew. _They've been looking for me…_ Curiosity burned inside him. Why would Arthur come himself? Certainly not to apologize. The king could barely stand to look at him. He shrugged mentally. He'd already given himself away, what damage could a few more minutes with them do? _I'll listen to them, then I'll hide in the forest until they leave. Then I'll continue on the Camelot, and this time, I'll be disguised._

"I'll listen to what you have to say," Merlin agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

A few minutes later, the three knights and Merlin were making camp in tense silence. Merlin and Leon tended to their horses while Gwaine struggled to light a fire and Arthur went to hunt something for them to eat. When he finished with his horse, Merlin walked over and watched Gwaine for a while. Rain had fallen heavily the night before, and there was no dry kindling to be found. Flint and steel repeatedly knocked together in Gwaine's hands, producing plenty of sparks, but the damp twigs refused to catch.

A few minutes later Leon joined them, and shortly after Arthur returned with two freshly skinned rabbits.

"I don't think we'll be able to cook that. The fire won't start," Gwaine said, looking longingly at the meat. Arthur frowned.

"Let me try," Leon said, taking the flint and steel from Gwaine. He crouched and tried for a few minutes, with no more success than Gwaine. Merlin watched, debating internally. Eventually his grumbling stomach won out, and he spoke up.

"If I light that fire for you, do you promise not to throw me in?" He asked casually. The knights' gazes snapped to his face.

"Please do," Leon finally said, choosing to ignore the jab, and offered Merlin the flint. Merlin didn't make a move to take it. Instead, he glanced at the little pile of wood and said a word:

" _Forbearnan_." His eyes flashed gold, and a little flame sprung up in the midst of the damp sticks. Soon they were all ablaze, and Gwaine rushed to add larger pieces of wood to the pile. Merlin casually raised his hands to warm them by the fire, ignoring the way Arthur's eyes bored into him.

While the rabbits roasted on a spit over the fire, Leon started talking. He told Merlin about a great army massing under Mordred's command on the plains, and Camelot's preparations to defend itself. "More and more people come into the city every day looking for shelter, but we don't have enough room for them all. And if it comes to a siege we won't be able to feed so many people for long. We have enough men to defend the city against a force of normal soldiers, but Mordred has sorcerers in his army, trained for war and able to take down a city's walls in the space of an hour. We are not equipped to face such a force."

"I've heard some of those rumors myself," Merlin said. "And I've seen…" He stopped. He saw no point in telling them about his dreams. They didn't need to know that he sometimes glimpsed the future, or that he'd seen Camelot burn. He cleared his throat. "Why are you telling me this? I'm guessing you didn't ride all this way looking for a fugitive to give him an update on the condition of your kingdom."

"No, we didn't," Leon said. "We have an offer to make."

"I'm listening," he said, working to sound disinterested while curiosity burned inside him.

"We can not hope to defeat Mordred's army, not when he's going to use magic against us," Leon said. "Not unless…" He glanced at Arthur. The king was staring into the fire like he couldn't hear them at all. Leon took a deep breath and looked back at Merlin. "Not unless we use magic too." It took a moment for Merlin to process what the knight had said. Then he started to laugh. Leon exchanged worried glances with Gwaine, but it was strange: Merlin hadn't laughed like this in so long, and now he couldn't seem to stop.

"Sorry, sorry," he gasped after a minute. "I thought I heard you say that you want to use magic to defeat Mordred." His shoulders shook as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle another snort.

"That's what I said," Leon told him. "We want you to use your magic to help us defend the city." Merlin started laughing all over again.

"It's not a joke, mate," Gwaine said, and Merlin nodded, struggling to control himself.

"No, of course not. It's- it's not funny- at all." He sniggered. "But you do see the irony here, right?" The other three men remained serious. "Come on. You would have burned me alive for using magic to save Camelot, and now you're here begging me to do it again. It's- I'm sorry, it's just funny." He chuckled one last time, then brought himself under control. "So why do you think I'd agree to this?"

"If you fight for us, the king will pardon you," Leon said. "You will no longer be a criminal or a fugitive."

"Would I be allowed to come back to Camelot?" Merlin asked curiously.

"You will still be banned from the city," Leon said reluctantly. "But you may travel freely through the kingdom."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "I have one condition," he said. They exchanged glances.

"What do you want? We can pay you, if that's-" Leon started.

"No, no, nothing like that," Merlin assured him. "All I want is an apology. From you, Arthur." The king glared at him, and spoke to him for the first time that night.

"I will not apologize for following the laws of my kingdom-"

"The same laws that you're now disregarding to save your kingdom?" Merlin asked pointedly. "I want an apology, or you can find yourself another sorcerer."

"No."

"All right." Merlin shrugged and stood up. "Thanks for the meal." He turned and started back toward his horse.

"Sire-" Leon whispered behind him.

"Don't be an idiot-" Gwaine hissed.

"We need him," Leon said urgently. "You know we do."

"Just say the bloody words!" Gwaine said.

"Wait," Arthur spat. Merlin smiled to himself, then straightened his expression before turning around.

"Yes?" Merlin said expectantly.

"I'm sorry," the king muttered, refusing to look Merlin in the eye.

"What for?" Merlin asked. Arthur clenched his jaw, but ground out the words.

"For trying to execute you," he said. Merlin shook his head and smiled sadly.

"That's not what I need you to be sorry for," he said quietly. But he returned to the fire all the same, and sat down beside the knights. He was quiet for a long moment, staring into the flames. _Your fate, and therefore the fate of this world, is entirely in your hands._ He took a deep breath and spoke, praying that he wasn't about to make the worst decision of his life. "I'll fight for Camelot. Not for you. Is that understood?" He stared hard at Arthur. The king met his gaze for the first time that night, and nodded stiffly. "Then we have a deal."


	7. Chapter 7

They left at dawn. Merlin had wrapped himself in his cloak and laid down with the others to sleep the night before, but hadn't once closed his eyes. Promises or no, he would not trust Arthur. That was a mistake he never intended to make again.

As they rode toward the city, the silence between them was thick with tension. The forest trail was narrow and often studded with rocks and gnarled tree roots, so they rode in single file. But as they drew closer to the city, the road grew wider and better travelled so that they were soon able to ride side by side. Gwaine was the first to break their line and ride up beside Merlin.

"Just like old times, isn't it?" The knight said with a grin. Merlin looked over at him and raised his eyebrows. "Well, when I say 'just like', what I really mean is different in every way," Gwaine amended. Merlin's mouth twisted into a crooked half smile, keeping his eyes forward. He felt Gwaine's eyes on him, studying him.

"You look different, mate," he said quietly.

"Five years will do that, I suppose," Merlin agreed. Gwaine nodded, but didn't stop examining him.

"You do look older, but it's not just that," he trailed off thoughtfully.

Merlin had no reply for that, and they rode in silence for a few more minutes. Then Gwaine spoke again.

"What about the swords?" The knight asked.

"What about them?" The twin blades were sheathed across his back, the leather wrapped hilts protruding above each shoulder.

"Why do you have two?" Gwaine asked curiously. Merlin shrugged.

"One for each hand."

"I've heard about lands to the east where they use swords like that, but I've never seen anyone fight with them. Before yesterday, I mean."

"I found that they suit me better than a longsword."

"After seeing you fight yesterday, I'd have to agree," Gwaine said. "I remember when Arthur used to make you train with him. You were terrible at it then."

"Arthur was a terrible teacher, and I was a worse student."

Gwaine laughed. "So what changed?" Merlin was quiet for a long moment, considering his answer. Finally he spoke.

"I found a better teacher, and a reason to fight."

XXX

They reached Camelot just as the sun began to dip below the treetops. Merlin halted on a rise where the forest opened up and the walls and towers of Camelot rose before them, bathed orange and pink in the dying light. Leon and Arthur continued on, but Gwaine reined in his horse beside him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The knight said, admiring the view of the city.

"Yes. Beautiful," Merlin echoed. _Corpses lay in piles on the blood soaked earth beneath the shattered gates, so caked in filth that it was impossible to tell for which army they had died. The sky glowed red, and the city burned._

Shaking off the remnants of the vision, Merlin urged his horse forward, following the knights down the road.

Riding through the familiar streets was like going back in time. He remembered walking here in another lifetime. People had known him then, liked him for the most part. They'd smiled at him as he passed, and they'd exchanged greetings and jokes. He remembered all of their faces, and he remembered their silence as they'd watched him being lead to the pyre. _This is who you're fighting for now,_ he reminded himself. _These are the people you're risking your life to defend._

Even though the place was familiar, there were differences in the city. The streets were more crowded with people than Merlin had ever seen before, but almost every shop they passed was closed. People didn't stop to talk like they once had, instead hurrying to their destinations with drawn faces and eyes cast downward. Others didn't walk at all: instead they sat at the edges of the streets, clutching baskets of what looked like all their worldly possessions. _They must be the refugees Leon was talking about,_ Merlin thought, watching a group of ragged children begging for coins. _They have nowhere to hide. They'll be the first to die if the city falls._

There were more red cloaked men guarding the entrance to the keep, but they immediately moved aside to allow the king to pass through. Stable hands appeared to take their horses. Merlin patted the black stallion's neck and whispered a few words to him in the ancient language, ignoring the strange look the stable boy gave him as he lead the horse away. Arthur was already halfway up the steps to the castle by the time Merlin looked up. Leon gave him a friendly nod before following after the king.

"I can walk you to your room, if you like," Gwaine offered. Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"I still have a room?"

"Yes. Well, no. It's not your old one off Gaius's chambers, but Gwen said she would have one of the guest rooms set up for you after we left," he explained. Merlin nodded, and they headed into the castle together. Merlin probably knew his way around Camelot better than Gwaine did, having been a servant there for years before Gwaine became a knight, but he still appreciated the company.

Gwaine lead him to the wing of the palace where they usually housed visiting nobles and ambassadors and the like, then showed him to the room that would be his for as long as he stayed in Camelot. Then he left Merlin to settle in alone. When the door swung shut behind him, Merlin crossed the room and dropped his meager bag of possessions on the bed.

"Home sweet home," he said to the empty room.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a knock on his chamber door later that night. Merlin sat beside the fire, his cloak and swords hanging beside the door, reading a book on the design of Camelot's walls. He figured that if he was going to help protect the city, he'd better know what he had to work with. It was a good idea in theory, but the book was desperately boring and he was glad of the excuse to abandon it and go open the door.

"Merlin!" Before he could say a word, Queen Guinevere had her arms around him and was hugging him tightly. He found himself wrapping his own arms around her and enthusiastically reciprocating the embrace. Of all his friends at Camelot, he'd missed Gwen the most.

"It's good to see you again," he told her when they finally broke apart, a wide smile on his face. It felt strange there, like the muscles in his face had half forgotten how to form the expression.

"You too. I missed you, Merlin," she said, looking at him with wide brown eyes that were suddenly suspiciously damp. "I like the beard," she told him, grinning. He laughed, and she hugged him again, then followed him back into his room. He offered her the chair where he'd been sitting beside the fire, and pulled another over for himself. When he sat, he looked over to Gwen and found her staring at him with a bemused smile on her face.

"What?" He asked. Her smile widened, and she shook her head.

"I can't believe you came," she said.

"Gwaine told me it was your idea to ask me," he pointed out, remembering the conversation he'd had with the knight on the way there.

"It was," she affirmed. "I just…" She shook her head again. "There aren't many people would agree to help someone who tried to kill him. You have a good heart, Merlin."

"I'm not doing it for him," Merlin muttered, uncomfortable with the praise. "And I'm sure you would do the same."

"No," she said, her voice hardening. "No, I wouldn't." He looked up at her change in tone.

"Are you and Arthur… are you still…" He asked awkwardly.

"We're married in name only," she said shortly.

"Because of what happened with me?" He asked. She nodded slowly, the firelight gleaming in her eyes.

"I couldn't stand to even be in the same room with him for months after…"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't do that," she snapped. "Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault, none of it. It was Arthur."

"Sor-" He broke off, realizing how ridiculous it would be to apologize for apologizing. "I wish things could have been different," he said instead.

"Me too, Merlin. Me too." She sighed.

"And… about the magic," he started hesitantly. She looked up at him expectantly. "You don't- I mean, it doesn't bother you?"

She was slow to answer. "No," she said eventually. "It doesn't bother me. Everyone says magic is evil, and I believed it for a long time. But…" she hesitated. "I know you, Merlin. I trust you more than I trust what everyone says."

"Even though I lied to you?" He asked, but she was already shaking her head.

"I understand why you couldn't tell anyone. Look what happened when someone did find out. You had to do it to protect yourself." He nodded gratefully, and they were quiet for a long moment, both of them lost in thought. Eventually Gwen cleared her throat and sat up straighter, suddenly all business. "I came to tell you that there's going to be a council meeting tomorrow to discuss the defense of the city," she told him. "All the councilors will be there, and me and Arthur. You should be there too, so you can tell us what you'll be able to do."

"The councillors agreed to this? Meeting with a sorcerer?" He asked doubtfully.

"Not exactly," Gwen said uncomfortably.

"Not exactly?"

"Well…" She took a deep breath. "We haven't told them yet."

"What?" He asked incredulously. "They'll arrest me on sight!"

"That won't happen," the queen said firmly. "Just hang around outside the hall for a few minutes while I convince them that this is the only way to keep the city safe. I'll send someone out to get you when those idiots have gotten used to the idea."

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "I hope you're persuasive."

"Oh, I am." She grinned wickedly. "They'll agree to it, one way or another." He raised his eyebrows.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side."


	9. Chapter 9

The twin blades sliced through the air and buried themselves in the straw filled dummy. The training yard was silent except for the rhythmic sounds of the blades sinking deep into wood over and over again while Merlin struggled not to think. The sun hadn't risen yet, and in the flickering orange glow of a torch Merlin could almost convince himself that the practice dummy was alive. Sweat dripped down his face, even in the cool night air. He had been here a long time, ever since his nightmares drove him from his bed in the dead of night. Merlin yanked his blades free and attacked the dummy with such ferocity that there was no room for memories.

"What did that poor thing ever do to you?"

Merlin whipped around, swords ready in hand. "Gwaine," he realized, lowering his weapons. He hadn't seen the knight approaching. "How long have you been standing there?"

Gwaine shrugged. " I didn't want to interrupt. You seemed pretty focused."

"Yeah, I guess I was." Merlin cast his gaze up at the sky and noted a dull gray glow on the horizon. It was almost dawn. "You're up early."

Gwaine grinned. "More like late." Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"You've been out all night?"

"Sure have," the knight said contentedly, and flopped down on the grass. "Don't let me stop your practicing. I'll just sit and watch."

But Merlin sheathed his swords and left them leaning against the practice dummy before sitting down beside his friend. "Have you been at the tavern?"

"How did you know?"

"I used my magic sorcerer powers," Merlin said seriously.

"Really?" Gwaine asked, eyes widening. Merlin laughed.

"No, clotpole. You stink like piss and bad ale."

"Right," Gwaine laughed. "Sorry." The pair fell into a companionable silence. Merlin tilted his head back and looked up at the fading stars. His eyes ached for sleep and his muscles burned from hours of exertion. He wondered if he would be able to sleep now. Seeming to read his thoughts, Gwaine nudged him with his shoulder. "Why are you out here so early?"

"I just wanted to get some practice in before anyone else was awake," Merlin lied. Gwaine nodded but looked at him strangely, and Merlin got the uncomfortable impression that the knight knew he hadn't told the truth.

"You know, I always thought you were a terrible liar," Gwaine said thoughtfully, confirming Merlin's suspicions.

"I guess I had everyone fooled," Merlin said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, you did." Merlin's gaze snapped to Gwaine's face, but there was no accusation in the knight's tone. "I think I know how you did it, though."

"How's that?" Merlin asked curiously.

"You weren't really lying."

"Yes, I was," Merlin said incredulously. "I lied all the time."

Gwaine waved a hand dismissively. "About the small stuff. Like, 'how did you clean all that armor so fast, Merlin?' 'Oh, I'm just really good at cleaning armor.'" Gwaine raised his voice in a high pitched imitation of Merlin, eliciting a snort of laughter from the sorcerer. "Or, 'how did you survive that battle, Merlin? You're completely useless with a sword.' 'I tripped over a tree root and accidentally stabbed the bad guy, aren't I clumsy, ha ha.' But the important stuff, you never lied about," Gwaine said, serious again. "You told us you were loyal to Arthur, and you were. You said you would do anything to protect any of us, and you would have. You said you were our friend, and you were."

"Yeah," Merlin said quietly. "Yeah, I was."

"You still are," Gwaine told him. "None of us wanted you dead. You know that, don't you?"

"I can think of one person who did," Merlin said bitterly.

"Yeah, well, he's a fucking idiot," Gwaine said fiercely. Merlin didn't reply for a long moment.

"Gwaine?"

"Yeah?"

"You've never said anything truer."

The knight laughed and rolled to his feet. "I'm off to bed. I might be able to get an hour or two of sleep before someone notices I'm not at training." Merlin nodded. "You should sleep, too. You've got that council meeting in a few hours," Gwaine reminded him, and offered him a hand up. Merlin hesitated for a moment, then took it, and let his friend pull him to his feet.

They walked back to the castle in silence, until they reached the stairs where they would part ways.

"Good night, Merlin."

"It's morning."

"Whatever."

Smiling, Merlin went off to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

"They're ready for you, m'lord," said the serving boy. He couldn't be more than ten years old, probably younger, and looked terrified to be speaking to Merlin.

"I'm not a lord," Merlin corrected automatically. "But thank you." He was leaning against the wall outside the council chambers, and had been there almost two hours already. Raised voices had been audible from time to time while he waited. The thick oak door muffled their words, but he didn't need to hear them to know what they were arguing about.

He stood up straight now, and tugged nervously at his tunic. It was new, and made of soft white fabric. Gwen had had it sent to him earlier that morning, correctly guessing that he didn't have any clothes suitable for the royal council chambers. He'd cleaned his own pants and boots, but nothing he did could erase the fact that both were worn from long use. His black cloak was in little better condition, but he wore it anyway. _I'm an evil sorcerer. I have to look the part_ , he thought, smiling wryly. The serving boy bowed nervously and pulled the heavy door open for him. Merlin took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked in.

The room, which had been filled with heated conversation, fell silent the moment he entered. Arthur and Gwen sat at the head of the table, and the rest of the chairs were occupied by the five councilors, mostly old men in fine clothing. A few faces looked familiar, but he didn't know their names.

"Merlin," Gwen greeted him with a pleasant smile, as though she hadn't just spent the past two hours arguing with a bunch of obstinate old men. "Welcome. Please join us." She gestured to an empty seat near the end of the table. He sat, ignoring the hostile gazes that followed him. "We've been discussing our preparations for the arrival of Mordred's army." The queen looked expectantly at the councilors. "Fill Merlin in on our progress so far, please." A chair creaked as one of the councilors shifted in their seat, and someone cleared their throat. No one spoke. Gwen scowled. "That was not a request," she said sharply.

"I will, if it please your grace," the man beside Merlin finally said. He was in his late fifties, judging by the lines forming on his face and the streaks of gray in his dark hair. His garb was simpler than most of the other councilors, and the clear eyes that met Merlin's were more curious than hostile. "I'm Merek, the castle physician." He offered Merlin a hand to shake, which Merlin accepted, thinking: _so this is Gaius' replacement._

"I'm Merlin," he introduced himself. "The castle sorcerer." Merek frowned slightly but nodded, then began explaining the defense of the city: how many men were to be posted along the walls and at each gate, what extra fortifications and weapons were being built, where the people of the city were to take shelter during the battle, the location of food and water stores and the plan for distributing them in case of a siege, and the coordination of healers to treat soldiers wounded in battle. There was a detailed map on the city laid out on the table, and Merek pointed out each location as he mentioned them, marking the places with different colored stones. Merlin listened carefully to all he said. "It sounds like you have things well under control," Merlin commented when Merek had finished. The physician nodded.

"For a normal attack, yes, we are well prepared. But this one is sure to include some kind of magical assault. That's where we need your input, as our king and queen have convinced us." Merlin glanced up at Gwen at these words. She winked surreptitiously at him, and he hid a smile.

"Do we know how many sorcerers Mordred has in his force?" He asked.

"We haven't been able to get a definitive count, but our spies estimate thirty," Merek told him. Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"You want me to fight off thirty sorcerers by myself?" The councilors looked uncertainly at each other.

"Can you do it?" Arthur asked. Merlin didn't answer for a long moment, thinking hard.

"In an open battle, no," he finally said. "But I know a protection spell that might serve. I haven't heard of it used on a whole city before, but I know sorcerers who've done it on castles or small villages. The same principle should apply here."

"How does it work?" Gwen asked.

"It's fairly simple. I'll need to draw some runes along the city walls," Merlin said, running his eyes over the map. "I'll wait until just before the battle starts to complete it, and then the city will be shielded from all but the most powerful of magical attacks."

"Magical attacks? What about other types? Siege engines and such?" A counselor asked. Merlin shook his head.

"This will only stop magic. Different spells would be needed to deflect physical projectiles."

"Can you do those spells, too?"

"Not at the same time as the first one. It takes too much concentration and energy, especially for such a large area," Merlin told them. "Unless…" He trailed off, turning an idea over in his mind.

"Unless what?" Gwen prompted him. "Is there a way for you to do both?"

"No," Merlin said slowly. "I can't do both. But if I had help… other sorcerers, people I trust… they could be positioned on the walls. One at each gate, for example." He picked up a few stones and set one at each of the gates drawn on the map. "They could help defend the walls while I keep magical attacks off." Gwen and Arthur looked thoughtful, but before either of them could speak, another councilor did.

"That's out of the question!" The man wheezed through a long white beard. There was so much gold and jewelry decorating his collar that it was no wonder his back was so bent. "Allowing even one sorcerer into the city was folly! Allowing any more past our gates would be sheer madness."

"My lord, we've been over this-" Gwen started wearily.

"I agree with Lord Wontsworth." All eyes went to the king. "It was a risk to bring a sorcerer here," Arthur continued, studiously ignoring his wife's furious gaze. "But it was a necessary evil. Bringing more sorcerers here is not necessary."

"My thoughts exactly, your grace," Lord Wontsworth said approvingly. "I-"

"A necessary evil?" Merlin interrupted, staring incredulously at Arthur. "That's what I am?"

"Sorcery is an abomination," Arthur said coldly. "Under normal circumstances, I would sooner have you in my dungeon than in my council chambers. But this is a war. Sometimes in war, we have to do things that repulse us in order to survive, like ally ourselves with a sorcerer. So, yes. I would call your presence here a necessary evil." Merlin stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair screeching across the flagstones.

"Maybe sorcery is evil. Maybe it's not. I don't think I would know if it were. But I do know with absolute certainty that burning people alive who have committed no crime is _evil_ ," he said furiously. "So is slaughtering innocent children for the unforgivable crime of being born to a family of Druids. So is eradicating entire villages of peaceful people for following the wrong gods and murdering healers for using their magic to help the sick and wounded. I may be evil, Arthur, but so are you."

"What are you doing here, then?" Arthur demanded. "If you hate me so much, why did you come?"

"This is war," Merlin said quietly. "Sometimes in war, we have to do things that repulse us in order to survive." He smiled humorlessly. "I came because you're a _necessary evil_." Merlin turned and strode out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin was on his way to the stables, enjoying the warm sunlight and familiar city streets. No one seemed to recognize him, but still, his twin swords were a comforting weight sheathed across his back. His route with took him past the training yard, where he stopped for a moment, briefly watching the knights battering each other with blunted practice swords while their trainers looked on. A familiar figure paused his practice for a moment to wave to Merlin, who returned the gesture, grinning as he watched Gwaine's practice partner whack him in the stomach for his lack of attention. Merlin was about to continue on his way when he almost ran straight into the king, who was followed by a group of knights.

"Arthur," he greeted automatically, and immediately regretted it. He was not in the mood to deal with the king's glares and loaded silences. But to his surprise, Arthur neither glared nor ignored him. Instead, he nodded a greeting and spoke.

"Are you going to practice?" He asked, gesturing to the training yard that Merlin had been watching. Merlin shook his head.

"Just on my way to the stables," he said cautiously. Arthur seemed friendly enough, but they hadn't spoken since their disagreement in the council chambers, when the king had made it abundantly clear what he thought of sorcerers.

"Do you always bring a weapon to visit your horse?" Arthur asked, and there were a few scattered chuckles from the knights accompanying him. Merlin forced a friendly smile.

"Only when visiting kingdoms where my existence is a crime," he said pleasantly. The knights shifted uncomfortably at that, Merlin noted with satisfaction. Arthur was undeterred, though.

"You should join us for training," the king suggested. Merlin laughed.

"I don't think so," he replied.

"Why not? Surely even sorcerers need to practice occasionally," Arthur said, a mocking edge creeping into his tone.

"We surely do," Merlin said easily. "Just not with the king of Camelot."

"Scared, Merlin?" Arthur taunted, and the knights laughed outright this time.

"Of you? No," Merlin said dismissively.

"Then come on. What's stopping you?" Merlin looked around at the circle of eager knights listening in, then turned his attention back to Arthur. He took a step closer. He was taller than Arthur, now that he'd finally learned to stop slouching. He used this to his advantage now as he let the friendly smile drop from his face, replaced by something far colder.

"I was almost burned alive when I saved your life, Arthur. What's going to happen when I threaten it?"

The group fell completely silent for a moment, and a few nervous hands touched sword hilts. Merlin ignored them, attention on Arthur. The king was silent too, all traces of joking gone from his face. Merlin held his gaze unflinchingly until finally Arthur looked away.

"No one's life will be threatened. The swords are blunted," Arthur said. Merlin grinned, but there was nothing friendly in the expression.

"Well in that case, why not?" He turned and headed for the practice field.

 _You're being an idiot_ , he told himself as he reached the edge of the field. _The second you get anywhere near Arthur, one of the knights will take your head off._ He ignored the voice and took off his cloak before slowly beginning to stretch. _This is definitely a bad idea. But it will be fun._ Arthur stood ready in a clear space in the field, swinging his sword with an easy confidence that comes with a solid decade of winning fights. _There's a man who needs to be taken down a few notches,_ Merlin thought, and strode over to Arthur, sliding the swords from their sheaths on his back.

" _Áslæwan_ ," he muttered, eyes flashing gold as he skimmed his hand along the blades. A faint blue shimmer ran down the length of both swords. He looked up to find Arthur staring at him. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to curse you," Merlin said placatingly. "I just blunted them down. See?" He offered a sword to the king, who cautiously touched the edge. Arthur nodded, satisfied, and handed the sword back.

"Let's do this," he said. Merlin took the sword back and slid instinctively into his ready stance. Arthur did the same, and they warily circled each other for a moment. Then, Arthur swung at Merlin's head. The sorcerer ducked out of the way. A quick step to the side was all it took to avoid Arthur's next blow, and the next. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the king's frustration grow. Arthur swung again, and this time Merlin brought the sword in his left hand up to block the blow. The blades slid against each other with a screech until Merlin's sword caught on the hilt of Arthur's. Merlin stepped forward, forcing Arthur's blade up over his head, leaving his torso unprotected. Merlin swept his right sword up from behind his back and held the point just over Arthur's heart.

"I yield," Arthur said through gritted teeth, looking completely shocked that he'd been beaten so quickly. Merlin heard a distinct murmur looked around, noticing for the first time that they had attracted an audience. The sorcerer smiled and backed away, spinning the swords in both his hands a few times to keep his muscles loose.

"Getting a little rusty?" He asked Arthur innocently. The king narrowed his eyes.

"We'll fight again," Arthur said. Merlin nodded once and fell back into his fighting stance. If Arthur were smart, he would wait for Merlin to attack first this time, but Merlin suspected that the king's wounded pride from his first defeat would make him eager to prove that he was the better swordsman. Merlin was right.

Arthur leapt forward with a quick thrust toward Merlin's left side. Merlin raised his left hand sword to parry, but at the last moment the king changed direction faster than Merlin would have thought possible. On most swordsmen, this would allow Arthur to slip past his opponent's defences while their sword was ready to parry on the wrong side. But Merlin was not an ordinary opponent: he had two swords. He parried Arthur's attack with his right sword, and for a split second their blades were locked together in a contest of brute strength. This was one area in which Merlin could not hope to win, and Arthur forced him back with ease. They separated, circling slowly.

Merlin saw his opening and lunged. Arthur blocked the blow and returned one of his own, and the fight went on, trading blows with neither man able to gain the upper hand. Then, Arthur thrust at Merlin, who sidestepped so the sword just slipped past his ribs. He caught Arthur's hand under his left arm and swung his right sword up above the king's shoulder, where it came to rest at his throat.

"I yield," Arthur growled, and Merlin stepped away, sheathing his weapons.

"That was a good fight," Merlin said easily. "We should do it again sometime." He noted with some amusement Arthur's furious expression, then grinned and walked away. The circle of onlookers parted for him to pass through, and he continued on his way to the stables.


	12. Chapter 12

The courtyard was dark in the early morning, and quiet except for the soft sounds of his horse's hooves on the cobblestones. The sun wouldn't rise for hours, and even the earliest rising castle dwellers weren't out yet. Merlin shivered slightly in the chilly morning mist and pulled his cloak a little closer around his shoulders. He had almost passed under the castle gates when he heard someone calling his name. A glance behind him found Gwaine jogging across the courtyard to catch up to him. Merlin reined in his horse to wait.

"Out late or up early?" Merlin asked when Gwaine reached him.

"Up early." Gwaine grimaced. "Why the bloody hell are you leaving now?" Merlin shrugged.

"I have a long ride ahead of me. I just wanted an early start."

"I think you're taking the 'early' part a bit too seriously, mate," Gwaine told him, shaking his head. Then he grew serious, and turned his face upward to look Merlin in the eyes. "I thought maybe you were trying to sneak away while everyone was asleep. To avoid trouble."

"Trust me, Gwaine, if I wanted to sneak off, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Merlin told him. Gwaine nodded, but still looked unconvinced.

"I heard you argued with Arthur in the council meeting," he said quietly. "And he didn't look too happy after that sparring match you two had." Merlin laughed.

"If you think that would be enough to chase me off, then you don't know me very well." Gwaine returned the smile.

"Gwen gave you permission to go find some more sorcerers to help, then?"

"Yes. She talked Arthur into it somehow."

"I suppose I'd better let you get on your way, then," Gwaine said, stepping back from Merlin's horse. "Just… you will come back, won't you?"

"I'll see you in three days." Merlin kicked his horse into motion and trotted out the gate.

XXX

Merlin reined in his horse as a green cloaked figure emerged from the trees to the side of the path. His magic tingled under his skin, and he smiled as the man threw back the hood of his cloak.

"Emrys," he said warmly. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, Fabian," Merlin replied, and swung down from his horse to shake the Druid's hand.

"What brings you here?" Fabian asked. "How long has it been since you left, two years?"

"A little longer, I think," Merlin told him. "I came to ask for your help."

Fabian looked at him sharply. "Is this something to do with Mordred?"

"Yes."

Fabian nodded slowly. "Come on, then. I'll take you to camp."

A few minutes later, the two men walked into the camp. People emerged from their tents at the sound of their passing, some familiar to Merlin from his last visit. Many followed behind them, seeming to know without having to be told that this was no casual visit. Soon all the adults were gathered in a loose circle around the campfire in the center of camp, waiting for someone to begin.

"We welcome you, Emrys," Ryia, one of the Druid leaders, said when everyone had found a seat.

"Thank you," Merlin replied.

"Fabian said you came seeking help," she continued. "What is it that we can do for you?"

Merlin hesitated for a moment, wondering how he could possibly frame his request in a way that wouldn't sound insane. Then he sighed and gave up, knowing that there was no way to make this sound better. "I need help defending Camelot from Mordred's armies."

A shocked murmur went through the assembled Druids. "Why?" One woman asked. "Camelot is the enemy of our people, Emrys. Why would you defend it?"

"Camelot is not our enemy," Merlin said. Seeing the disbelieving looks he was getting, he continued. "Camelot's leaders have been our enemies ever since the Purge, no one can deny that. But its people are not guilty of the crimes of their king. Mordred's armies have been burning and pillaging their way through the land, killing anyone who gets in their way. Yes, that includes the lords and knights and officials who have persecuted us, but it's also the farmers. It's the merchants and blacksmiths and healers, it's old men and children and people who have done nothing to deserve that fate."

"You are right, Emrys," one of the men spoke up. "These people have done nothing, and that is precisely why they deserve destruction. They stood by for years and watched while Uther slaughtered our people by the hundreds. They would not help us when we needed them most. Why should we risk our lives for them?"

"Because their deaths won't bring back the people we've lost," Merlin answered. "Destroying Camelot will not right any past wrongs. Mordred and those who follow him are angry. I know you are too. So am I. We have the right to be: the crimes committed against our people are beyond counting. But revenge will not help us. All it will accomplish is to continue this endless cycle of destruction and violence, and that won't help anyone. They persecute us, we fight back, they use that as justification for their next attack, we defend ourselves, and they come back and hit us a hundred times harder. It never ends, don't you see? The only way it could stop is with complete annihilation, or with peace. I know what I would choose. What about you?" He looked around at the Druids gathered around him. "It won't be easy," he continued quietly. "They will resist us. It will be a long time before the chasm that's opened up between our peoples can heal. But we can start. We can choose to be the better men. Mordred thinks that destroying Camelot is the first step on the path to building a better world, but he's wrong. If he burns that city to the ground, he's not better. He's just another Uther. And if we stand back and do nothing, we're no better than the crowds who gather to watch witches burn. My friends, we don't need another Uther. We don't need revenge. And as hard as it is to accept, we don't even need justice. What we need is peace. And this is how we get it."

There was a long silence. Then, at the back of the group, a young man stood up. "My parents died in the Purge," he said. "I wanted revenge for a long time, but Emrys is right. Killing them won't help us. I don't want any more children growing up orphans." He met Merlin's gaze, eyes blazing. "I will fight with you, Emrys."

"As will I," Ryia said, rising from her seat near the fire. "I have glimpsed the future in my dreams, and the path Mordred will set us on leads only to more death. Emrys will lead us to new life."

"I will fight with you, Emrys," Fabian said, meeting Merlin's eyes with a smile.

"And I," said the woman beside him.

"And I."

Soon the clearing was full of voices, offering their help in the battle to come. Merlin listened and smiled, knowing that he wouldn't be facing this enemy alone.


	13. Chapter 13

True to his word, three days later Merlin had ridden into the city once again, six sorcerers following close behind. That was almost a week ago, and Merlin now stood on the battlements above the northern gate to the city, Ryia, one of the Druids, beside him.

"They'll attack from this direction," Merlin said confidently, staring out to the north. It was the best place for it. The road was wide here, which made sense in times of peace, since on market days these roads were clogged with traders and farmers looking to sell their wares. But it also gave an enemy force an easy approach. The road to the north also wove through a series of small hills, which sheltered the enemy from the defender's arrows until they were within a few yards of the walls. Ryia nodded in agreement.

"Emeric and I will guard this section of the wall," she said. "We have the most experience. You'll want us where the fighting is heaviest."

"Where do you think the others should be positioned?" Merlin asked her. She knew the other sorcerers better than he did.

"Alinor and Fabian should go to the eastern and western gates," Ryia said thoughtfully. "I am confident in their abilities, although Alinor has been training longer." Merlin nodded. He knew Fabian from the time he had spent with the Druids after he left Camelot, and Alinor was Fabian's older sister. "That way the eastern and western gates will be defended if Mordred decides to attack on multiple fronts."

"And they'll also be close enough to you and Emeric that they can help here if need be," Merlin added.

"Exactly."

"What about Nilus?" Merlin asked her. Nilus was a lanky boy with a shock of wild blond hair and green eyes. He was no more than sixteen, but had been the first to volunteer when Merlin had asked for help.

"Nilus has powerful magic, but he is the newest to our group and has the least experience," Ryia told him. "He should be kept well away from the heaviest fighting."

"We can position him at the southern gate," Merlin decided. "There shouldn't be much trouble there, if there's any. The roads there are too narrow to get any large force through, and there's no cover to speak of. An attacking force would lose half their numbers to archers before they even touched the wall."

"So we'll have someone at every gate," Ryia said approvingly. "Plus you and Illaria in the keep. That is, if you convinced your physician to allow it?"

"Merek wasn't happy, but he'll let her help," Merlin told her, referring to the druid healer who had come along to help with wounded men from the battle. "He said he'd be watching her closely the whole time, but I'm sure as soon as the fighting starts he'll be too busy to take notice of her."

"Good. Illaria would throw a fit if she had to work with some old physician breathing down her neck," Ryia said. Merlin smiled. He'd only spoken to the healer a few times, but he'd gotten that impression as well. "Have you prepared your shielding spell yet?" Ryia asked after a moment. Merlin shook his head.

"I'll do it tomorrow."

"Don't wait to long," Ryia warned him. "The scouts say that Mordred is marching. He'll be here in a few day's time."

"I know. Tomorrow," he assured her.

"And you're sure you'll be able to protect the entire city? I've never heard of a shielding spell on that scale."

"It will work," Merlin said with a confidence he did not feel. Ryia nodded, and they were quiet for a moment.

"Have you ever killed a man?" Ryia asked suddenly.

"What?" He asked, taken aback by the question. She looked at him steadily, waiting. He swallowed hard. "Yes. I have."

"Good."

" _Good?_ " He repeated. "Why is that good?"

"The battle will be easier for you. Killing always gets easier with time."

"I don't want killing to get easier."

She smiled, a strange, sad smile.

"None of us do. But it happens all the same." She reached up and gently touched his face.

 _Be brave, Emrys_ , she told him, her voice echoing in his mind instead of his ears, and walked away, leaving him alone to stare out over what would soon be the battlefield.

XXX

The next day, Merlin rode his horse around the entire length of Camelot's walls. At regular intervals, he dismounted to carefully unwrap the bandage around his hand and draw a symbol on the stone in his own blood, muttering words in the ancient language as he did so. Leon went with him. The knight claimed that he was there for Merlin's safety, but he was far too honest a man to tell a believable lie. Merlin knew that Arthur had sent him to make sure Merlin didn't do anything he wasn't supposed to. It didn't bother Merlin to have Leon there, but he did find it a little pointless. Merlin could be chanting "burn down the walls, kill everyone inside, I am an evil sorcerer" in the ancient language and Leon wouldn't know the difference. The knight seemed uncomfortably aware of this same fact, but tried to cover it up by asking questions about what Merlin was doing.

"Why do you need to draw blood?"

"It's part of the spell. I'm basically binding myself to the place I'm guarding so that my magic can protect it." Leon seemed satisfied with that answer and stayed quiet until the next time they stopped.

"What are the words you're saying?"

" _Eac se ríce sylfum mín dréor, ic i bescylde þes eard_ ," Merlin said as he drew the symbol.

"What does it mean?"

"With the power of my blood I shield this place," Merlin told him, wrapping the bandage back around his hand and swinging back up onto his horse. "That was the last one."

"What about the north gate?" Leon asked, surprised. "Aren't you going to do one there?"

"I'll wait until just before the attack. Once I complete the circle the spell will start taking energy. I don't want to waste the effort before the battle even starts." _I'm going to need all the strength I've got to pull this off._


	14. Chapter 14

The sun was setting once again when the first banners emerged from the trees. They were black, patterned with gold stars, the sigil that Mordred had chosen for himself. Merlin stood above the north gate and watched the enemy march out onto the hillside, where they gathered in orderly ranks, awaiting the command to attack.

"Shouldn't you be finishing your spell?" Came a voice from beside him. Merlin turned, and to his surprise, it was Arthur who stood at his side.

"I wanted to get a look at them first," he said, nodding at the army gathering in the distance.

"And?" Arthur asked. Merlin shrugged.

"It's an army. I've seen armies before." They were quiet for a moment, then Merlin looked over at the king. "Are you planning on arresting me when this is over?" He asked curiously.

"No," Arthur replied after a pause, staring straight ahead. Merlin laughed.

"But you've considered it." It wasn't a question, and Arthur made no reply. He didn't need to. The truth was written all over his face. "Can I ask you something?" Arthur nodded curtly. "Why do you hate magic so much?"

The king looked at him in disbelief. "Do you really have to ask me that?"

"Yes."

"Magic killed both my parents and countless other innocent people, and it's been threatening to destroy my kingdom since before I was born. How could I not hate it?"

"Magic didn't do any of those things. People did. Human beings who happened to have too much power at their disposal."

"They didn't happen to have magic. They chose it, they studied it. They wanted the power to destroy."

"That's not true."

"What?"

"I said that's not true," Merlin repeated. "Not everyone chooses magic. Some are born with it. Like me." Arthur looked bewildered for a moment, and Merlin dared to wonder if the correction of that one simple misconception would be enough to change Arthur's mind. But then the king shook his head like a horse ridding itself of a bothersome fly and said:

"It doesn't matter. Magic corrupts. Even those who began with the best intentions are turned evil by that power."

"So what does that make me?" Merlin asked. Arthur didn't reply. "How many men have you killed, Arthur?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question," Merlin insisted.

"I don't know. Many."

"How did you kill them?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you use your hands? A weapon? Did you push them off cliffs? Bash their skulls in with rocks?"

"A weapon. My sword, mostly."

"Swords are evil."

"What are you-"

"Everyone who has ever wielded a sword is evil. Anyone trained in swordsmanship is evil. It is now against the law to own a sword of any kind. If you're found in possession of a sword you'll be arrested and killed without a trial. It doesn't matter if you've never used that sword to hurt anyone in your life. Maybe you inherited it, maybe you've never had any training and don't even know how to use it. Maybe the only thing you've ever done with it is chop firewood or something harmless. Or maybe you're an excellent swordsman, but you only ever use that skill to protect the people you love. Maybe you didn't have a choice. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Using a sword is completely different from using magic," Arthur insisted.

"How?" Merlin demanded.

"It just is, all right?" Arthur snapped. Merlin opened his mouth, a furious reply on his lips, but he swallowed it. _It's no use arguing with him_ , he told himself. _He's made up his mind. Nothing you can say right now will change that._ Instead, he just shook his head.

"Be careful tonight. Don't get yourself killed," he said, and turned to climb down off the wall, but Arthur called after him.

"Would you care if I did? I thought you would be glad to see me dead." Merlin stopped and turned back to face Arthur.

"We were friends, once."

"Were we?" Arthur asked bitterly. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you lied to me the first time we met and never stopped. Nothing you ever said to me was true. It was all just part of some scheme to get close enough to me to get what you wanted."

"That's not true. I cared about you-"

"Then why did you _lie_?" Arthur shouted. "Why would you keep this from me?"

"Are you serious?" Merlin laughed. "Look what happened when you found out!"

"It wouldn't have been like that if you'd just told me, if you'd been honest with me from the start-"

"Oh, come on, Arthur. We both know that's complete horseshit. When we met, your father was king. He hated sorcerers even more than you do, I'd have been dead the second the words were out of my mouth."

"Fine, you couldn't have told me then. But after- we were friends for _years_ , Merlin. You knew me. You could have told me. Why didn't you?"

"Because I was _afraid_ , Arthur!" He shouted, calm finally deserting him.

"Of what?"

"Being arrested. Being burned alive. I was afraid that I'd have to leave Camelot, that I'd lose my friends and my home. I was afraid that I'd lose you. And I did," he said, voice finally quieting. "I lost all of it." They were both silent for a long moment. Merlin stared out over the battlefield.

"I trusted you," Arthur said quietly. "You were my best friend, and you betrayed me."

"Don't you dare," Merlin growled. "Don't you dare talk to me about betrayal." He turned and descended from the battlements.


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin stood in front of the north gate, the last place he had to draw the runes to complete the spell. Ryia was beside him, and Gwaine. Both of them would be positioned at the north gate during the battle. Around them, soldiers swarmed, donning armor, sharpening weapons, and getting into position for the coming fight.

"You ready?" Gwaine asked. Merlin set his jaw and nodded. He unwrapped the bandage on his hand and drew the runes, then stood back and said the words one last time.

" _Eac se ríce sylfum mín dréor, ic i bescylde þes eard_." For a moment, nothing happened, and the three watchers exchanged worried glances. Then, the runes started to glow, and the spell hit Merlin like a ton of bricks. He gasped and almost fell, shocked by the sheer volume of power he felt leaving his body. His vision was overwhelmed by gold light, and he was vaguely aware of someone saying his name, but he couldn't reply, too occupied with getting air into his lungs to speak. Slowly, the vicious force subsided. He could still feel it there, drawing on his magic, but now it was manageable. His eyes cleared and he took deep breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart.

"Merlin?" Gwaine said tentatively. Merlin looked over and forced a smile.

"I think it worked," he said.

"It did," Ryia said, awe in her voice. "Look." Merlin followed her gaze upward and saw the source of her wonder. From each place Merlin had drawn the runes, strands of blue light were sprouting. They spread out across the sky, interweaving with each other until they formed a huge, netlike dome over the whole city.

Around them, soldiers muttered darkly, looking up at the sky or casting glares at Merlin and Ryia. The soldiers all knew about the sorcerers in their midst, since they would be fighting alongside each other, but that didn't change the fact that most of them had been raised to hate and fear sorcerers, and those emotions could be seen in abundance in the eyes of these men. Ignoring them, Ryia turned to Merlin.

"You need to get back to the keep. You shouldn't be here when the fighting starts." Merlin nodded reluctantly in agreement. He knew that the best thing he could do in the battle was to stay out of the way so he could keep the protection spell going, but hiding away from the fight still felt wrong. As though sensing his misgivings, Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

"Go on," the knight said. "You keep up your end, and we'll keep up ours."

"Go, Emrys. We will hold the gate," Ryia said, steel in her eyes. Merlin nodded again, more firmly this time.

"I'll see you later," he said, refusing to consider the possibility that he wouldn't.

"Good luck, Merlin."

"Be safe, Gwaine. And you, Ryia." _Keep in touch_ , he told the Druid mentally. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and Merlin turned and headed back up to the keep alone, wishing that it didn't feel so much like running away.

XXX

By the time Merlin reached the keep, he knew he'd made the right decision in returning there before the fight, no matter how cowardly it felt. It wasn't a long walk from the wall to the keep, but by the time he got there Merlin was sweating and tired. The spell was taking more out of him than he'd anticipated. He found a quiet corner of the great hall, where Merek and the other healers were preparing to receive wounded men from the battle, and sat down, trying to keep out of everyone's way. Gwen spoke with him briefly, but she had many duties to attend to and couldn't stay long. Morgana was there as well, but she didn't stop to talk to Merlin, just sent him a tight smile as she walked by.

Soon after he arrived in the hall, Ryia's mind touched his.

 _Their forces are marching on the gates_ , she told him. _The battle has begun_. A moment later, he felt the first magical attack. Mordred's sorcerers were trying to bring down the city walls. He gritted his teeth, but the shield held. The next attack came just moments later, and they kept coming. Merlin felt it every time they struck, drawing out more of his magic to maintain the shield. There was a high window in the wall above where he sat, and he looked up. The strands of blue light had changed to red when the attacks began, illuminating the city in a violent crimson glow. Merlin shivered, remembering his visions of the city burning under a blood red sky.

XXX

"Merlin?" He heard the voice as though from very far away, and opened his eyes.

"Illaria," he said. His voice sounded as bad as he felt, scratchy and raw.

"Drink," she ordered him, pressing a cup into his hand. He lifted it to his mouth and drank, expecting water, then coughed at the unexpectedly strong flavor. "All of it," Illaria admonished him. "It will help." Eyes watering, he brought the cup back to his lips, prepared this time for the sharp taste of ginger and lemon and salt and something oddly bitter that he couldn't identify. The mixture burned as it slid down his throat, but seemed to clear away the worst of the fog of exhaustion that clouded his thoughts. Sitting up straighter, he asked:

"What was in that?"

"Ginger," she told him. "And a few other things. How do you feel?"

"Tired," he replied. "But better now. Thank you." She inclined her head. "How's the battle going?"

"Well," she said. "Mordred's armies were not expecting to face so much resistance. The walls are holding."

"Good," Merlin said distractedly. "That's good." Mordred's sorcerers had launched another attack while he was talking to Illaria, and he sent out more magic to keep them back, drawing on his already dangerously depleted reserves of strength. He took his aching head in his hands.

"You think so?" Illaria asked, something new in her voice, and he looked up at her curiously.

"Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She took a long moment before she answered. "If we win this battle," she finally said. "Do you think anything will change?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If everything goes according to plan- if we defeat Mordred, drive his armies back into whatever hole they crawled out of, if we save Camelot from certain destruction- what do you think will happen then? Will Arthur see the error in his ways and welcome us all into his kingdom with open arms? Will he legalize magic and beg our forgiveness, and all will be right with the world?"

"Illaria-"

"I don't think it likely," she interrupted. "Tell me, Emrys, what will you do, after you've saved the king's life for the hundredth time, when he turns around and murders the next sorcerer unfortunate enough to cross his path?"

"I don't believe that will happen," Merlin protested. "What we're doing here will change the way Camelot sees us."

"Has Arthur shown any sign of changing his views on magic?" She asked. Merlin swallowed hard and said nothing. Illaria smiled sadly. "I didn't think so."

"Why did you come here, Illaria?" He asked. "If this is what you believe, why did you agree to help me?"

"I am a healer," she said simply. "I came here to save lives. It's what I do." Before he could reply, she stood and walked away, returning to her patients. Merlin's attention drifted back to his spells, but Illaria's words had awakened doubts that he had been suppressing for a long time. He could only hope that she was wrong.


	16. Chapter 16

"How goes the battle?" Mordred asked. He sat on his horse on the hill above the city, looking down at the chaos on the walls below.

"Not well, my lord," said the messenger beside him. "The men on the walls are repelling every attack we make, and the protection spell over Camelot is too strong. Our sorcerers can not break through."

"Keep trying," Mordred said calmly. "We must breach their defences."

"But my lord, with so much attention focused on breaking the protective spells, the sorcerers can not shield our own men. They are being slaughtered."

"So be it."

"But my lord-"

"I am not accustomed to repeating myself." Mordred turned and fixed the man with an icy glare, and messenger swallowed hard. His hands shook at the reins.

"Yes, my lord." The man bowed awkwardly in his saddle and rode away back toward the battle. Mordred watched him go, then reached out with his mind.

 _Who are these sorcerers creating the protection spell?_ He asked silently. His accomplice inside Camelot replied almost instantly.

 _Not sorcerers. Sorcerer. It is one man._

 _One? That is impossible._

 _I can assure you it is not._

 _Who is it?_

 _Just a servant. He was meant to be executed years ago for practicing magic, but he escaped. Arthur brought him back to help defend the city._

 _Can you get rid of him?_

 _No. He is surrounded by people, I couldn't do it without drawing attention to myself._

Mordred growled in frustration. _Then how am I to get inside the city? My troops are being slaughtered._ There was a long pause, and Mordred began to wonder if his accomplice had gone. Then:

 _I can get you inside._

 _How?_ He asked.

 _Be at the south gate in one hour._

 _What do you plan to do?_

Inside the keep, Morgana took a deep breath and replied. _I will open the gate. Together, we will kill Arthur and Camelot will be ours._

XXX

Morgana slipped out of the great hall and down the corridor, pulling her hood up as she went. Outside the keep, the sounds of battle drifted to her ears from the northern side of the city walls. She turned away from the sound and headed for the south gate. The streets were empty here, all the inhabitants shut away in their homes or taking shelter in the keep while the battle raged on.

When she reached the south gate, she approached more carefully, climbing to the top of the battlements without making a sound. This gate was less heavily guarded, she knew, because the attack was coming from the north. She easily dealt with the few soldiers on the outside, killing one with a flick of her knife and using her magic to throw the others over the wall to die on the stones below. She strode purposefully to the guardhouse where she knew there was a winch to raise the gate. But before she reached it, she felt a surge of heat hurtle past her face, missing her by inches. She whirled around, magic at the ready, to find a scrawny blond boy, no older than sixteen, standing behind her with fire engulfing his hands.

"Don't move!" He cried, his voice cracking. "Get away from the gate!"

She grinned. "Look what we have here. Why are you fighting for Arthur, little sorcerer? You know he hates our kind. Why not join me and fight for your own people?"

"I'll never join you!" The boy shouted. "I fight for Emrys and the Once and Future King!"

"What a shame," she sighed. "We could have used talent like yours." His eyes widened in fear, but before he could attack, Morgana cast a spell of her own.

" _Blédan_ ," she hissed, and the boy choked, clutching his throat and watching in horror as thick, dark blood spilled from his mouth. He collapsed to the ground, blood pooling on the stones beneath him. She turned away from the dying sorcerer and entered the gate house. A flash of gold eyes and a muttered spell sent the winch turning, and with a groan of wood and metal, the gates opened. Morgana descended from the walls and stood waiting in the open gate when a lone figure on horseback emerged from the darkness.

"Mordred," she greeted him.

"Morgana," he replied, dismounting. "Lead the way."


	17. Chapter 17

Merlin's eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. He reached out with his mind, brushing up against first Ryia, then Emeric. When he found them alive and well, he checked on Alinor and Fabian at the eastern and western gates. They, too, were alive, though Fabian had taken an arrow to his shoulder. He thought that might have been what he felt, but the unease lingered, so he reached further, searching for Nilus at the southern gate. There was nothing. He frowned and pushed harder, his attention leaving his spells momentarily in favor of locating the young sorcerer. Suddenly, a voice burst into his mind.

 _Emrys!_ The voice cried. _They've opened the gate! He's inside- and she's with him, she's a traitor-_

 _Nilus?_ Merlin interrupted. _What's going on?_

 _She- she opened the gate- I tried to stop her- she did something to me-_ the voice broke off, and Merlin held desperately onto the weakening connection with Nilus's mind.

 _Are you all right? Who was it?_

 _I can't- I'm sorry Emrys-_ the voice was fading, and the connection was growing weaker by the second.

 _Nilus!_ Merlin shouted into the boy's mind. Nilus didn't reply. Instead, the hall before him vanished and he found himself looking out of someone else's eyes. He saw Morgana, grinning as she cast a spell at him, watched the world tilt as he fell to the ground, and saw her go to the guard house to open the gate and welcome a hooded rider. He knew he was watching Nilus' memories.

 _Stay with me, Nilus. I'll come for you. You'll be alright._ But even as he said it, he could feel the boy fading, feel Nilus' fear of the end that they both knew was rapidly approaching.

 _I'm sorry, Emrys,_ Nilus whispered. _I failed._

 _No, Nilus,_ Merlin said firmly, heart breaking. _You did everything you could. You fought bravely._ Merlin felt the boy's brief swell of pride, a glow of warmth inside his barely-beating heart. Then he was gone.

Merlin opened his eyes and was immediately slammed with another attack on the magical defences of the city. He gasped at the impact and forced his concentration back onto the spells, ignoring the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. The moment the attack subsided, he reached out again with his mind.

 _What is it, Emrys?_ Ryia asked.

 _Nilus,_ Merlin replied tightly. _He's gone._

 _What do you mean?_

 _Morgana killed him. She has magic, and she's been working with Mordred. She killed Nilus and the guards at the south gate and let Mordred in. I think they're here to kill Arthur. Is he with you?_

 _No,_ she replied. He could feel her pain at the news of Nilus's death, but she didn't allow any emotion to slip into her voice. _The king was injured a few minutes ago._

 _Badly?_

 _No. A cut on his arm. His knights insisted he go back to the keep to get it bandaged._

 _Thank you,_ Merlin said. _And… I'm sorry. For Nilus._

 _I know, Emrys. I'm sorry too._

Merlin opened his eyes and paid attention to his surroundings for the first time in a long while. The hall had grown even more crowded and chaotic since the last time he looked, making it impossible to locate the king. There was nothing for it. Gritting his teeth, Merlin struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support. His whole body shook and his legs threatened to give out, but he forced himself upright and pushed off the wall. He had to find the king, warn him about Morgana and Mordred.

 _Illaria?_ He called to the Druid healer.

 _Yes, Emrys?_

 _Do you know where Arthur is?_

 _Yes, he's just leaving the hall. The queen and a few of his advisors are with him, and the Lady Morgana. They've gone to discuss strategy in the throne room._

 _Thank you._ Merlin made his way toward the door, taking a moment to reflect on how very convenient it was to be able to speak to people in his mind.

The hall was so crowded now that it took Merlin what felt like an age to make any headway, dodging healers hurrying to their next patient and soldiers carrying their injured friends to cots, weaving around stretchers laid haphazardly on the floor. He was only about halfway to the door when he caught his first glimpse of Arthur, following Morgana and Gwen to the door. Heart pounding in his ears, Merlin redoubled his efforts to reach them, but the crowds seemed to be actively working against him.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted. But the clambor of the room overwhelmed his voice, and the group slipped out of the hall, followed by Morgana, who smirked to herself as she shut the door behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

Merlin turned the corner, following where he knew Morgana had gone with Arthur. Light spilled from a doorway down the hall, and he could hear Morgana's voice coming from within. He crept forward, taking care to keep his footsteps light and quiet, and poked his head around the doorframe. When he saw what was inside, he yanked his head back around and leaned against the wall, heart pounding. Inside the throne room, Mordred leaned against a pillar, lazily watching the scene before him. Morgana paced back and forth, gleaming eyes fixed on Arthur, Gwen, Merek, and a few of the lords he remembered from the council chambers, all of whom were pressed against the wall, bound by some invisible magic.

"Did you really think I would be happy as some simpering lady, useless except for whatever profitable marriage you could make for me?" Morgana was saying. "How could I be content with that life, when I have this power inside me? _Cwealmnes_!" Merlin winced when he heard Arthur's cry of pain. "You are weak," she hissed. "Weak and stupid, to be blind to what was right in front of you all along. _Cwealmnes_!" The king cried out, and Morgana laughed.

"Morgana, stop playing with you food," Mordred said, sounding bored. "Finish him."

"Fine," she sighed, and Merlin was around the corner and casting a spell before he even made a conscious choice. In an instant, Morgana was thrown off her feet, landing hard on the stone floor, where she was bound by the same spell that had been holding the king and queen. Mordred was shoved backwards and trapped against the pillar he had been leaning on. Arthur, Gwen, and the others scrambled to their feet, released from their magical bonds.

"Merlin?" Gwen gasped, eyes finding him in the doorway. Merlin didn't look at her, attention on the two sorcerers he held trapped with his outstretched hands.

"Are you all right, Gwen?" He asked calmly.

"Yes," she said, obviously working to keep her voice steady.

"Good." Merlin stepped further into the room.

"Let me go!" Morgana shrieked, straining against the magic that held her. "Release me and fight like a true sorcerer!"

"No thank you," Merlin said politely.

"Traitor! How could you turn against your own kind?"

Merlin shrugged. "The way I see it, I'm not the traitor in this room. Camelot is your home. How could you hand it over to someone who wants to see it destroyed?"

"You think I care about Camelot?" She said incredulously. "You know better than anyone, Merlin, that no one here would give a damn about me after they found out what I really am. I've seen too many people like me burn to ever think of this place as home."

"And you really think that all this," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the battle and Mordred, "is the way to change their minds about magic? You think this is the way that we make peace?"

"I don't want to change anyone's mind," she laughed. "And I certainly don't want peace."

"Then what do you want?" He asked. She grinned, a mad glint in her eyes.

"I want to kill them all."

Merlin shook his head sadly. "You're fighting on the wrong side, Morgana."

"I could say the same for you," a cool voice interrupted. Merlin turned to look at Mordred, who had been quiet thus far.

"Why is that?" Merlin asked cautiously.

"Look around you," Mordred said. "Look at the people you are fighting for. Do you see how they look at you?" Merlin spared a glance at the watchers. The king and queen were glaring daggers at Mordred, but the rest were watching all three sorcerers with equal apprehension. "These men hate you. They fear you. What have they ever done to deserve your loyalty?"

"I'm not fighting for them. I'm fighting for Camelot, and for all the innocent people that will be hurt if you and Morgana win this battle."

"It's true, there will be bloodshed," Mordred said. There was something that sounded a lot like real regret in his voice, but Merlin dared not believe that he was genuine. "But before we can build a new world we must first destroy the old. While King Arthur rules Camelot, those who practice magic will always be kept in the shadows. But Morgana and I will bring magic back to this kingdom. We will set our people free. Isn't that what you want?" Merlin stopped, and for a split second he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Here he was, fighting on the side of the man who had tried to have him executed, the man who was proudly carrying on his father's work of wiping people like Merlin off the face of the earth. Merlin shouldn't be protecting him. He should be killing him.

Then, he remembered exactly who was speaking to him. Mordred would never bring peace to the realm. He and Morgana wouldn't stop at killing Arthur. No, after the king was dead, they would move on to the queen. Next would be any knights who fought them, as all of Merlin's friends surely would, followed by countless soldiers and citizens of Camelot, anyone who dared question the new regime. Yes, Morgana and Mordred would bring magic back to the land, but at what cost?

Mind made up, Merlin shook his head.

"Not like this," he said quietly. "Never like this."

"Then you are a greater fool than I imagined," Mordred said, shaking his head disappointedly. "We could do great things together, the three of us. I've seen what you're capable of: this protection spell is a thing of beauty. It must be horribly difficult to maintain, though- aren't you getting tired?" Mordred smiled, and Merlin's blood ran cold. He knew what was going to happen a split second before it did. He heard Mordred's telepathic call to every sorcerer in his army to attack with everything they had, and a moment later, his protection spell was hit with such a barrage of attacks that for a moment, everything went black. Immediately he poured more power into the spell, struggling to maintain the shield. But a second later, something slammed into his body and he hit the floor, hard. His concentration was broken, and he scrambled desperately to hold onto the spell.

He looked up and saw that Mordred and Morgana had taken advantage of his distraction to break free of their bonds and were advancing toward him, magic sparking at their fingertips. He rolled to his feet, pushing back the darkness that lingered at the edge of his vision and ignoring the way his legs shook beneath him. He was in no fit shape to battle two master sorcerers, but he had no choice.

He raised his hands, feeling power crackling beneath his skin, depleted but ready, as always, to fight. Mordred was the first to attack. " _Gewican ge stanas_!" He shouted, and a deep rumble sounded directly above Merlin's head. He looked up and dove out of the way just in time to avoid the stones tumbling down from the crumbling ceiling. They landed with a boom that shook the floor, and Merlin shoved a hand out and sent the chunks of rock hurtling toward the other sorcerers. Morgana shouted a word and the rocks burst into dust and drifted to the floor.

Another spell was on Merlin's lips, but Mordred beat him to it. The other sorcerer was gathering power between his clenched hands, building up a yellow light so bright that Merlin had to squint against the glare. Just when it seemed that Mordred would not be able to contain the light for a second longer, he opened his hands and a thick beam of hot yellow light shot toward Merlin.

" _Bordrand_ ," Merlin cried, and blue light sprouted from his outstretched hands, forming a translucent, dome shaped shield in front of him. Mordred's spell slammed into it with a sound like a gong, and the energy dispersed in a cloud of yellow sparks. Merlin felt the impact deep in his bones, and the last threads of control he had over the city's protection spell slipped away. He tried desperately to hold on, but it was too late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the red light over the city fading to nothing. The spell was broken. Dread filled Merlin as he realized what this meant. Camelot was undefended. All that was left were the men on the walls, and they could not hold the gates for long against magical attacks. The city would fall, and it would be Merlin's fault.

"Camelot has all but fallen," Morgana cackled. "Why don't you just give up now?"

"Never," Merlin growled. He clenched his fists, and blue fire erupted from his hands. " _Fleogan_ ," he growled, and hurtled the flames at the other sorcerers. Mordred fell back, but Morgana extended her hands and bent the fire around her like a serpent, then sent it flying back toward Merlin. He dispelled it with a wave of his hand, but by then Mordred had recovered and pressed the attack again. Morgana joined him, and despite his best efforts, they slowly, inexorably pushed Merlin back. In the end, it was Morgana's spell that ended the fight.

" _Dynge blæcern_!" She swept her hands around in a circle as though she were pulling something from the air and sparks of lightning crackled to life in her hands, reflecting in her wide, crazed eyes. Merlin gathered the magical shield he had summoned, drew back his hands, and shoved it forward. The sheet of light skidded across the floor until it reached Morgana, where it bent around her like a bubble, trapping her inside. But it was too late for her to stop the spell she had begun, and the lightning exploded from her hands. It collided with the shield and ricocheted off the sides, bouncing around the orb in a bewildering storm of light. Merlin heard Morgana scream and saw her fall to the ground, struck by her own lightning.

He moved toward her, but he had barely gone two paces when there was a flash of light and a loud crack, and he felt a curious coldness creeping through him. He looked down and raised a hand to touch his side, the origin of the odd sensation, and pulled it away bloody. "Oh," he gasped. He shuddered and fell to his knees. He thought he heard someone say his name, but couldn't find the strength to answer. He stared down, watching blood drip slowly from the wound and spatter on the floor.

"It really is a shame," Merlin heard as though from very far away. "The things we could have done together…" Mordred paced nearer, lazily drawing his sword as he came. "We could have ruled Camelot. Instead…" Mordred smirked. "You will die, here and now."

He raised his sword, and Merlin's eyes slid shut.


	19. Chapter 19

_Mordred raised his sword, and Merlin's eyes slid shut, waiting for the blow to fall._

But it never came. Instead, there was a resounding crash of metal on metal. Merlin forced his eyes open. His vision was strangely dark and blurred, his thought even more so, and it took a moment to process what it was that he saw. A figure in a red cloak, sword flashing as he fought Mordred.

 _Fool_ , Merlin thought desperately. _Going against a sorcerer with nothing but steel. He's going to get himself-_

Arthur's sword dropped to the floor with a clatter, fallen from fingers that had suddenly gone limp. For a moment, it was as though the past five years had never happened, and Merlin watched his best friend slump to the floor, Mordred's sword buried to the hilt in his chest. Something twisted inside him, something dark and sharp and burning, and the last of his depleted magic surged out of him, no finesse or direction to it, just raw, uncontrolled power. Mordred's dying shriek was a terrible thing to hear, and then he was gone, no trace left behind but a smear of ash upon the floor.

Slowly, painfully, Merlin staggered to his feet and went to Arthur's side. There was a lot of blood. Merlin's fingers worked at the buckles on the side of Arthur's armor, intent on finding the injury. When he peeled the broken breastplate away, sticky with blood, he knew.

"Arthur," he said, hating in that moment how unsteady his voice sounded. One look at the king's face told him that Arthur knew, too. "Why did you do that, idiot?"

"It's like you said before," Arthur rasped. "We were friends." He coughed, bringing up blood that seemed too bright, too red on his pale lips. His hand, slippery with blood, came up and grasped Merlin's with surprising strength, as though he were searching out something to keep him tethered to this world. Their eyes met, and Merlin would see the urgency in his eyes. They were running out of time. Arthur sucked in a rasping, painful breath, struggling to form words, and when he finally spoke it was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Merlin wanted to reply, but he couldn't find the words and then he was being pushed aside to make room for Merek. Merlin swayed on his feet, watching with a curious sort of detachment as the physician pressed a cloth to Arthur's wound. In the haze of his exhaustion and pain, everything had taken on a strange, dreamlike quality, and none of it seemed quite real.

"Emrys," said a voice nearby. He turned and found Illaria, the Druid healer, standing beside him.

"Can you help Arthur?" He asked. It took more effort than he expected to form the words, but he pressed on. This was important, though at the moment he couldn't quite explain why, not even to himself. "Merek can't save him. Only magic can heal something like that."

Illaria looked over at where Arthur lay on the ground, the physician beside him. "You're right," she agreed. "Merek can't save him."

"Will you help?"

Illaria looked at him, her face unreadable. "You're injured. You need to rest."

"I will, but-"

Illaria's cool fingertips pressed against the side of his face. _Sleep,_ her voice whispered inside his head, and he found that he could not refuse. His weary body suddenly felt impossibly heavy, and when the healer guided him to sit down he couldn't find the strength to resist. _Rest,_ she said softly. _All will be well when you wake._ That didn't sound quite right to Merlin, but he was too tired to remember why. He closed his eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

Merlin woke up to the sun shining and the sounds of the city drifting in through the open window. He sat up carefully, taking note of the lingering ache in his side. He was wearing fresh clothes, and he was clean: no trace of blood remained on his skin. Slightly unnerved, he wondered who had done that, and how long he had been sleeping. He was just considering getting up out of bed to find out when the door opened and Gwen came into his room.

"Merlin!" She cried, and rushed over, wrapping him in a tight hug. He returned the embrace, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at her enthusiasm. "I'm so glad you're awake!"

"How long was I asleep?" He asked as she pulled back from the embrace.

"The better part of three days," she told him, sitting down in a chair beside his bed.

"Three _days_?" He repeated incredulously. She nodded in affirmation.

"Illaria healed you as well as she could, but she said you would still need time to recover," she told him. "She said you used up too much magic."

"I guess I did." There was something tugging at Merlin's thoughts, a question that needed answering, lingering just out of reach. It came to him in a moment of blinding clarity. "Is Arthur alive?"

Gwen pressed her lips together and looked away, avoiding his gaze. "No," she finally said. Her voice was perfectly even, tightly controlled.

A memory came to Merlin the. It happened so long ago that he had nearly forgotten it, but now it returned as clear as though it had happened yesterday.

 _Do I know you?_

 _I'm Merlin._

 _So I don't know you._

 _No._

 _And yet you called me friend._

 _That was my mistake_.

Something twisted in his chest. A mistake. Was that what all this had been, from the moment he left Ealdor to the moment Arthur took his final breath? Would Merlin have been better off if he never left home, never came to Camelot, never even heard the name of Arthur Pendragon?

 _It's like you said before. We were friends._

 _I'm sorry._

No. The clarity was sudden, blinding, and despite the ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his wound, Merlin felt more sure of himself than he had since he returned to Camelot. Arthur had done terrible things and great ones, acts of breathtaking selflessness and cruelties beyond imagining. But whatever Arthur had been, whatever he had become… Merlin couldn't bring himself to regret that friendship, not even now.

Slowly, Merlin nodded.

"And the Druids?" He forced himself to ask. "Did they all survive the battle?"

"All of them but Nilus," Gwen told him. "They left two days ago. Ryia said that she needed to get back to her people, and she wanted to give Nilus a proper Druid funeral. Illaria stayed behind, though. She said that we needed her skills now more than her village did."

The sound of Illaria's name itched at the back of Merlin's mind, but now was not the time to examine that more closely.

"And the knights?" He asked instead. "Gwaine and the others?"

"All fine. Percival was wounded in the battle, but it wasn't serious."

"Good," Merlin said, relieved. "What about Morgana?" He asked, suddenly remembering how the lightning had struck her. "Is she dead too, or…"

"She's alive," Gwen replied, voice hardening. "She was injured badly by the lightning, and the healers don't know if she'll survive." Merlin nodded slowly. "If she does live, she should burn for what she did," Gwen added, sudden venom in her voice.

"No," he said, without thinking. The denial was instant, instinctual, but he didn't regret it.

"Why not? She betrayed all of us."

"No one deserves to die like that," Merlin said quietly. "And you shouldn't be so quick to condemn her. She was doing what she thought she had to do to save her people from destruction. In another life, I would have done the same."

Gwen was quiet for a long moment. "I'll try not to be quick to condemn her," she finally said. "But I won't be quick to forgive her, either."

Merlin smiled. "I would expect nothing less from the Queen of Camelot." He meant it as a compliment, but Gwen's mouth twisted in response to the title and she looked away again. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shook her head. "It's all right," she said. "You don't have anything to apologize for. I just… I married Arthur because I fell in love with him. But that was a long time ago, and I'm just a blacksmith's daughter. I never wanted to rule."

He reached out tentatively and took her hand. "I think," he said carefully, as she raised her eyes to meet his, "that's what will make you great."

Her lips flicked upward. "Thank you, Merlin." He returned the smile, little though they had to laugh about.

"So," he eventually said, when the silence had stretched just a little too long, "what happened while I was fighting with Morgana and Mordred? I know my protection spells failed."

She eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure you want to talk about this now? You just woke up."

"I feel fine," he told her, only lying a little. "And I'm curious."

She nodded reluctantly. "When the protection spell failed, things were… bad… for a while there. Mordred's sorcerers broke down the gates, and his army came in. Their sorcerers had some kind of shielding spell on them so our men couldn't hurt them or fight them off, and it looked like they were going be be able to just walk right into the castle. But then, all of the sudden, the sorcerers just broke and ran. No one knew why until later, when we found out that it was at the same time that Mordred died. The sorcerers must have felt it when he died and decided it wasn't worth fighting anymore. After the sorcerers disappeared, his army was left vulnerable. Our men drove them back out of the city, and the ones who survived either ran off into the woods or were taken prisoner. You saved us, Merlin."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't have needed saving if I'd kept that damned protection spell up like I should have. How many men died because I-"

"Don't do that to yourself, Merlin," Gwen said firmly. "You did everything you could, more than anyone else could have."

He nodded to satisfy her and forced a smile. "We won," he offered, and wondered why the words brought no sense of victory. Perhaps she heard the hollowness in his tone, but she returned the smile anyway.

"We won," she agreed, then glanced out the window at the sun's position in the sky. "It's getting late. I need to get going. There's a meeting of Arthur's council in a few minutes."

"Your council, now," Merlin corrected.

"My council," she echoed, and frowned. "That sounds odd."

"You'll get used to it," he promised.

"Maybe." She stood up and started to leave, but paused at the door and looked back at him.

"I really am glad you're here, Merlin," she said quietly. "I don't know what we'd do without you."


	21. Chapter 21

Illaria came to see him soon after Gwen left. She brought him a light broth and some water, along with another potion that he drank despite the strange taste. When he finished, she told him to take off his shirt and checked his wound. Her hands were cool where they pressed against his skin, and he felt her magic tingle inside him as gold light flooded her eyes. Finally she replaced the bandages and leaned back.

"Well?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Will I live?"

"Most likely," she replied wryly. "Avoid spellwork for a few more days, and no strenuous physical activity either. You should be back on your feet by the end of the week."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I've seen Gaius treating a lot of injuries, and I know this would have been a lot worse if you hadn't been there."

"You're welcome." She stood and gathered her supplies. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few other patients to see to." She turned to the door, and for a moment, Merlin considered letting her go. If he didn't ask her now, he probably never would, and might be better off not knowing how she would reply.

"Illaria?" Merlin called after her. He had to know, though he could not explain why, not even to himself. She turned back.

"Yes?"

"When Arthur…" He hesitated. "When Merek couldn't save Arthur, why didn't you heal him?"

Her face was unreadable. "I couldn't. His wound was too severe. There was nothing I could do."

But Merlin was already shaking his head. "I've seen you heal wounds worse than that one before. What really happened?"

"I was tired," she said. "I had been using my healing magic for hours before Arthur was injured. I did not have the strength."

"You had the strength to heal me," Merlin pointed out.

"Your wound was less severe, and I-"

"Illaria," he said quietly.

"Yes, Emrys?"

"Please don't lie to me."

She looked down at the floor and was silent for a long moment. "When I became a healer," she finally began, choosing her words very carefully, "I swore to save as many people as I possibly could. When you asked me to heal Arthur Pendragon…" She paused, lifted her chin and looked Merlin directly in the eye. "I believe I fulfulled that oath. Do you understand?"

"You let him die." His voice was flat, expressionless, at odds with the tangle of emotions writhing inside him.

"It's like you said, Emrys. When you came to our camp looking for help. You said that we didn't need justice, or revenge. All we need is peace. You were right."

"How is letting him die not revenge?"

"What happened to him wasn't _enough_ to be revenge. If there were any justice in the world, Camelot would be a smoking ruin, and the charred bones of her peope would lie scattered in the ash, unburied and unmourned. But the city still stands. The markets will reopen and flourish, homes will be rebuilt, people will return to their farms and till the earth. Soon enough, children will be born and live and grow and never know war. The men who died will be buried, with stones to mark the place where they lie and families to remember their names and tell their stories. Arthur Pendragon will be remembered as a great king and as a hero. Does that sound like revenge to you?"

"That wasn't your decision to make!" He said.

"No? Whose was it, then? Yours?" She countered. He made no reply, and her mouth twisted into a smile. "I see."

"We're not executioners," he said, shaking his head. "Killing Arthur is not what we came here to do."

"Perhaps not, but it should have been. Arthur would never have brought magic back to this land, but now… now the Pendragon line is spent. The war is over, and we are free. This is the peace you spoke of, and we have it because the king is dead."

Merlin closed his eyes. _Is that true?_ He wondered. _Do I feel this way because what she did was wrong or because I'm too weak to see that it was right?_

"Go see to your other patients," he finally said. "But once that's done, I think you should leave."

"Why?"

He opened his eyes. "If anyone else finds out what you did- or didn't do, I suppose- you would be in danger."

She raised her eyebrows. "And who will tell them my secret? You?"

"No," he said. "But take it from someone who tried to keep a great many secrets for a very long time: these things have a way of getting out."

Slowly, she nodded. "I will return to my village once my work here is done."

"Good."

She paused in the doorway. "I will not be remembered as a hero, Emrys. I doubt I'll be remembered at all. But when my time comes, I will die knowing that my people are safe because of what I did. If Arthur had lived, could you say the same?"


	22. Chapter 22

Merlin looked up from the papers he was reading and leaned back from his desk, stretching stiff muscles. The sun was just beginning to set over the city, and the sounds of the market in the street below drifted in through the open window. He heard a juggler competing with a street magician for the attention and coins of passers-by on the corner, their voices mingling with the talk and laughter of the crowds in the street. The wheels of an old witch's cart rumbled against the cobblestones, weighed down by potion ingredients. Nearby, a farmer sold vegetables to a Druid woman with three children in tow. A man stood outside the shop where he sold spell books, talking with the baker next door. If he squinted against the sinking sun, Merlin could make out soldiers and sorcerers alike, wearing red cloaks and standing side by side on the walls of the city, keeping their home safe. It had taken a lot of work and even more time to make it happen, but magic was finally returning to Camelot. Merlin smiled.

"What are you smirking about? Last I checked, tax records were no laughing matter," Gwen said wryly. Merlin glanced over at the queen, who was sitting behind her own desk with a pile of paperwork in front of her.

"They are when the numbers look this good," Merlin shot back. "It would make you smile too, if you weren't too high and mighty now for a little thing like accounting." Gwen threw a balled up scrap of paper at him, which Merlin dodged, grinning. What he'd said was true: nearly ten years had passed since Merlin's return, and despite all the fears that magic would destroy Camelot, the kingdom was thriving.

"Really, though," Gwen said eventually. "What were you smiling at?"

"Nothing in particular," Merlin said with a shrug. "Just…" He let out a long, satisfied breath. "Things are good."

Gwen followed his gaze out the window down to the market, and a look of contentment settled on her face. "Yes," she agreed. "They really are."

The End

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you all so much for reading! You've been really patient with me, it took me a long time to finish this story and I'm glad that you all stuck around until the end. I hope you enjoyed it!_


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